


Setting Sun

by bela013



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Mentions of Inquisition related violence, Trespasser Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25238881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bela013/pseuds/bela013
Summary: The Inquisition is all but a pawn of the Divine. All of Thedas was.
Relationships: Gaspard de Chalons/Female Inquisitor, Gaspard de Chalons/Female Trevelyan
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	Setting Sun

She wondered at the ambitions of the Divine. Leliana was a task master. Merely a month after the disbanding of the Inquisition, and the Divine was using her for her schemes. She tried not to be bitter, but it was hard. The Divine didn't want to lose the influence she had on Orlais, and she always used her as a pawn when dealing with the Empress. Evelyn flexed her remaining arm, and tried not to stare at the other pawn in all this.

Her companion made himself hard to ignore. Pacing along the room, his feet stomping upon Val Royeaux's finest rugs. A bull charging next to daintily poised porcelain figures, kicking at hand carved chair. He didn't even try to ignore her. She could feel the burn of his glare, even through his mask.

Leliana was a smart woman. She knew Orlais had the most to offer to her as Divine. The sunburst throne was all but a means to an end for her plans. And Empress Celene was devoted to the faith in her own way. To have the Herald of Andraste so close to her, and the favor of the Divine was nothing to scoff at. Unless you were actually the pawns used in the scheme for such alliance.

"Sit down, you're making me dizzy." It is the first time she actually spoke to Duke Gaspard in a more private setting, since their little altercation in Val Royeaux. She saw him constantly in functions, and in a different situation, she would have gone right back to ignoring him. Best not to poke the bear, especially a bear that thought her guilty of costing him his crown. The fact that she also imprisoned his sister was all but a footnote in their relationship.

He turned towards her, and actually growled. The sound echoing behind his mask. An impressive sound that would have normally made her stand to face him head on. Now, she just looks at him with tired eyes. She almost pitied him. Celene saw fit to marry him off, and she couldn't even do it while his bride was was young and whole. No, Duke Gaspard was only relegated to scraps of power, and an one armed mage wife.

"I never pegged you as a lap dog to the Divine" it's not his harsh voice, or his words that make her wince. But the fact that he dared to say such things in a place such as Val Royeaux, where the walls had many eyes, and infinity ears. And it was so overly late for such outburst, that all of it was pointless.

The plan of this marriage of convenience was already in motion for far longer than either of them knew about it. After the incident in Val Royeaux that costed her her arm, the plan was speed up. The Inquisition was no more, and soon, the Divine's most prized bargain chip would lose all its appeal, and revert back to being the unwanted daughter of a lowly noble family, the fact she was a mage and now mutilated didn't do her any favors. So the wheels of fate were set to spin even faster. It made her sick to her stomach.

She was abed, weak and frail, when Leliana announced her impending marriage to her. She didn't even have the strength to cry about it. Her body rejected the magic of the mark, and the violence of having her arm torn out of her body, decepated, when speed was more important than the pain she felt. Her mind was in and out of focus for weeks. She remembers the horror of seeing Vivienne and Cassandra hold her down as Cole cuts the cursed arm. A month later, here with Gaspard, she could still feel the blade against her skin.

Cassandra had been a constant at her side since the  _ accident _ . And in all her romantic notions, she tells her that her fiance had visited her at her quarters in Val Royeaux. She could not fault Cassandra for trying to spin this whole sordid mess into something good. Nor could she remember such visits, highly medicated as she was.  _ 'Some arranged marriages could be good and happy' _ . A kind knight, trying to cheer their hurt friend. She had always been fond of Cassandra. Vivienne also visits, but all she remembers of her, is her fellow mage looking at her with the same hard set of eyes that she looked at her dying lover. Neither of them had painted a good picture of the life that was ahead of her.

And now. Now, the marriage was done. The announcements were rushed. The ceremony was rushed. She heard more than one noble whisper about it. They all thought her to be pregnant and carrying what was possibly the next in line to the sunburst throne. For no one would marry a mage such as her otherwise. The one saving grace was how solid her  _ husband _ was. She had to make that her saving grace, or she would crumble.

During the ceremony, Gaspar was stoic by her side. A firm hand at her waist. A wall at her left side. He didn't offer her his arm. Before the Divine herself pronounced them married, he poised himself at the side of her decepated arm, and held her against his body. She was still weak, but at least she didn't sway and fell to the ground. Her wedding dress a flowing thing, much like a mage's robe, the finest silk and lace. And yet, she felt, deep below the drapes of cloth, how her ribs ached beneath the bandages. Gaspard's hand had been warm.

After the ceremony, with a heavy ring upon her finger, after the party, where food tasted like ash, Gaspard guides her out, towards his own quarters, now hers as well. She is surprised at how delicate he was when placing her in a chair in front of the fireplace. Then he practically shifted and started pacing like a maniac, growling and kicking at furniture. There was little she could do but kick off her silk slippers as she watched him rage. What a sight. He puts as much space between them as possible. She was so clearly being treated as spun glass by someone who shouldn't be allowed near spunglass.

"If you must slip into impropriety, do it so next to me, where my magic will shield us from prying eyes." He marched towards her then, like one does towards war. He cut an impressive figure. He stops at the edge of her gown, his boots a breath away from her bare feet. The difference in power between them was so great that it caused her backlash. At the moment, he could crush her, and she wouldn't have minded. He bends forward, leaning onto her chair, hands at the armrest, caging her in. Her fingers reach for the collar of his vest, tugging him even closer. To whisper into his ear. He wilds to the smallest tug of her hand. "If you must commit treason, do it later, when I would be strong enough to run away when they come for me."

He pulls away from her as if scorched. Then does the unthinkable and removes his mask. The man who looks at her is not exactly who she expected. Salt and pepper hair, and an impressive scowl adorned by reddish whiskers. His eyes were incredibly alike the Empress. Pale blue. That in his angular, looks like enchanted fire.

"I'll arrange a mask for you. Something worth your position." his scowl turns to feral. It's an attractive look on him. "An owl for a mage. It will put those fools in a tizzy." It was the same tone of voice he used on her at the Val Royeaux ball, all those years ago. Smug, and proprietary. "Celene will pay for trying maneuver me, by gifting me such a weapon." Then it's her turn to wince once more. In pain. And in horror at her husband.

"Just stop talking." she reaches for the clasps of her dress, she opens the front and breaths easier. Maybe if she also showed enough cleavage to him, he would stop talking. She was sore, but she would suffer a bedding, if it meant Gaspard would stop talking treason in the palace.

"You're hurt" he looks at her thin chemise, but his eyes focus on the bruises on her breast bone, where Vivienne's arm dug into her skin as she tried to hold her in place. She opens her dress down to her navel, and shows him the bandages over the chemise going around her ribs. There was no angle for her to disrobe completely and remain sit, so she leans back on the chair.

"If you want to bed me, you'll have to remove the rest. I rather you do it in bed, and keep your weight off me, but I'll put up with your wishes on our wedding night." Gaspard steps closer to her once more, hands reaching for her body. She expects him to grab a breast. His hand slowly traces the edge of her bruising. He knees at her feet, and she collapses completely against her chair.

She knows he must bed her. It is their wedding night. He must do it. They're in Val Royeaux. And there must be eyes on them at the very moment. The last thing she needs, is to have the wedding annulled because her husband didn't bed his sick wife. The absolute last thing she needs, is to be cast out in such a delicate moment.

With sure hand, she tugs at his collar once more, pulling him towards he. Her legs part for him, and he presses against her body. He is so very warm. Slowly, she leans forward and rest her head onto his shoulder. For the 1st time in a long time, she was at the mercy of someone else. And she was scared.

"I need you to take care of me. Please" this wasn't a game. A play to manipulate him. So when she feels his arms come around her back and lift her off the chair, she sobs. Her tears finally come, and there is no stopping them.

Gaspard is rough as he caresses her back. She knows he is doing it to offer some comfort. He is so bad at it. When he places her onto his bed, she can look at his face. Orlesians didn't know how to shield of their faces. He looked so very uncomfortable. His hand was warm and heavy on her stomach. She did not hate him, or blame him for all of this.

"The moment you're fit for travel, we will leave for my estate" his eyes were hard, with a hunger to them. He looked at her as he had looked at the sunburst throne. Maybe he has a weakness for delicate women, or maybe he was just fascinated by things that could ruin his reputation. Maybe, he just wanted to have an excuse to fight Celene and the Divine. Maybe it was all of that. The glint in his eyes promised a flaming tornado to come.

She closes her eyes and breaths easier as her husband lies down next to her. She hoped she could regain her strength before he burned too many bridges for the both of them. The sound of his light snore is at the edge of her mind as she falls asleep.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I've been writing this for a month. Fuck it. I'm done tweaking with it. Let it plague someone else's mind for a while.


End file.
